‘Don’t worry,’ Ellen assured her. ‘I won’t discuss it. The meeting is at the end of ’week in any case, so then we’ll all know what’s happening.’

When Anna brought the children on their moving day, it was gloriously sunny and Harry suggested that they should all walk to the park. Ellen packed a picnic of bread and cheese and home-baked scones and they walked along the back road, which was quieter than the Beverley road with its carriages, wagons and hand carts.

They entered through the gates and passed the park keeper’s lodge. Seeing the keeper, Harry asked the ticket price. To his delight they were told it was free and they could stay as long as they wished until closing time.

The children ran on to the grass, running round in huge circles, for it had been a long time since any of them had had the freedom to do so. Then they walked by the lake where swans serenely swam; they admired the fine tree planting, though Harry and Ellen noticed that several large trees had reacted badly to a previous drought, and Ellen pointed out to Sarah and Mary the gardens that were laid out with fresh spring flowers.

They let them run for half an hour while Harry and Ellen walked slowly, hand in hand as they used to when they had first met, but keeping a close watch on the children, especially the boys. Mary ran back, followed by Sarah, to ask if they were allowed to pick the flowers. ‘Sarah says we can’t,’ she pouted, ‘and I wanted to take some home and put them in a jug.’

Her mother shook her head. ‘Suppose all of ’children who come here picked the flowers,’ she said. ‘How would the gardens look then?’

Mary gave it some thought, and then said slowly, ‘There wouldn’t be any left to look at?’

‘There wouldn’t be, would there? There would onny be bare earth.’

Mary nodded. ‘Ah, until someone else scattered some seeds and waited for them to grow.’

‘That’s right, so no one else would have ’pleasure of seeing their lovely colours for a long time. Anything else?’

Sarah looked about her. ‘Erm, the bees and butterflies wouldn’t be able to collect any nectar and they’d die of hunger.’

‘Oh,’ Mary said. ‘Oh, no! I’ll never pick another flower. Ever!’ she said emphatically.

Ellen glanced round. ‘I have an idea,’ she said. ‘Let’s sit down and have our picnic and then we’ll make daisy chains, cos I can see daisies, and as there are so many and they grow wild on the grass we can pick those before the gardener comes along with his cutter and cuts off their heads.’